Those Red Flowers
by xXSilverStoneXx
Summary: Jace wants to know more about Clary. So when he finds her sketchbook/journal, can he really be blamed for "borrowing" it? It was all because of those red flowers. ClaryxJace, oneshot.


Hello everyone! Yes, I am trying out a new fandom... Don't worry; I'm still a diehard Dramione shipper :)

Enjoy. Oh, wait. Um, Jace may seem a bit obtuse here, but he thinks that she hates him, keep that in mind. Thanks.

~Those Red Flowers~

_xXSilverStoneXx_

**Fandom**: The Mortal Instruments

**Pairing**: Jace/Clary

**Rating**: T

**Category(s)**: Romance

**Background**: Jace and Clary aren't romantically involved.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own The Mortal Instruments, any of its characters, or any of Cassandra Clare's marvelous ideas.

He couldn't blame it on anything but those red flowers. Well, those flowers and him, of course, and his damned curiosity. They had just drawn him in, the perfectness and boldness of them. Just like Clary. The red of the flowers matched her hair, and the green of the stem matched her hair.

If she ever figured out what he had done, she would be mad. Of course. That adorable Clary anger, where her eyes seemed to crackle with intensity, and she tries to act threatening but turns out cute instead. It could have to do with the fact that he was about a foot taller than her. Or maybe that Jace had been a Shadowhunter all his life, and short redheads didn't rank high on his fear list.

Was it strange that he looked forward to her anger? Even sometimes provoked her just to see it? Probably. But there were many issues that he had had in his life, including a hair-dyed impersonator, guarding his heart with sharp sarcasm, and the whole ego thing. (Actually, Jace didn't really think there was an "ego thing." But apparently Clary, Alec, Isabelle, Magnus, Maia, Jordan, and Simon-Jace didn't even _know_ how Simon had managed to weasel his way into this one-thought that there indeed was an ego problem. They even staged an intervention, which was quite embarrassing.) In the grand scheme of things, enjoying making a fiery redhead angry didn't hit that high on his issues.

Oh, yes, Clary would definitely be pissed when she found out what he had done. He cradled the little book that held enormous amounts of restricted information in his arms. She never let anyone touch her sketchbook. Ever. When he had asked if he could, she had crossed her arms and asked him why he was more special than anyone else who had ever asked. He, of course, knew the answer. It was because he was himself, obviously. But he knew Clary would shake her head and say "BS." And, somehow, he would still find her endearing.

What was this secret book? It was her journal. Filled with sketches, dreams, and secrets. After all, wasn't that what all girl journals had?

In his room, he closed the door and cracked open the book. He couldn't believe his luck; she was so protective of the book that he had half-expected her to have asked Magnus to spell something onto it.

The first page was just swirls in the sparkly pens that he had given her for her birthday (along with a dagger, a new witchlight, and a seraph blade). He saw her name written along with his name, which gave him a slight thrill before he tamped it down, of course.

The next page was torn a bit from vigorous erasing, and had the battle scars of eraser marks to show for it. It was a picture depicting him sleeping. He looked so... Peaceful. When was the last time that he had looked in the mirror and seen himself, thinking that he looked peaceful?

It was wonderful, and not just because it had him in it, although that was part of it, definitely. His skin was perfect, the exact golden tone of Jace's own skin. His hair was mussed from sleep, and he would never be seen like that in public. Except if he had just finished an argument with Clary that ended in passionate snogging. That would be okay, then. Even if Clary had said that she would rather kiss a dying seal than him. Why did he need an ego intervention when he had the redheaded spitfire to bring him down a notch whenever she felt like it?

The next pages all had things unworthy of mentioning, like Simon. He looked better as a rat, Jace thought disinterestedly as he flipped through the pages. Maybe he would find some juicy piece about some guy she liked. He had no idea why the thought sent a ping through his heart. Or, well, he chose to ignore the idea he had about why because he didn't want to face it right then.

And, finally, there was a page with writing on it. Or... He looked ahead... Five straight pages of writing. Too bad her handwriting was the big and loopy kind that was almost impossible to read. Just deciphering the first sentence was giving his brain a workout, but it was worth it.

_I don't even know why I like him._

That gave him incentive to keep reading. What kid did he have to scare away from naive, innocent Clary this time?

_He's, frankly put, a douchebag. _

He was hooked by this time, wanting to know who Clary's mystery guy was. This time, he identified the feeling running through him as jealousy. He was jealous of Clary's mystery guy, whoever he might be.

_Simon hates him, and for good reason. But for some reason, I find myself captivated whenever I look at him._

That didn't really narrow it down much. Simon hated everyone, including Jace, and he was "so charismatic it was nearly impossible to hate him." His words, of course. He's been told differently, and he's been told similarly. He chooses to believe the latter.

_The way that the sunshine catches off his hair, his smug half-smirk, and his eyes. Oh, his eyes. I could go on and on about them, but I won't because it would not be good for getting rid of my crush._

That wasn't even a good description! She didn't say the color of his hair or his eyes. How was Jace supposed to figure out who Clary liked if she didn't describe him in her journal?

_He's a playboy, and he doesn't like me. I've resigned myself to that fact, but can't I still admire?_

Playboys... He didn't know that many playboys. He had a sneaking suspicion that he knew now who Clary liked, but he didn't dare believe it for a second. It was truly impossible.

_I've talked to Alec about it, after all he's been in the same boat. He said for me just to tell him. But I'm not courageous enough for that. Not nearly courageous enough to tell him that _**_dammit, I think I've gone and fallen in love with you._**

Jace breathed out a sigh of relief. He had been thinking Alec, since Alec had been with many people since his breakup with Magnus. Isabelle had begun teasingly calling him a manizer, since he was gay. Simon hadn't gotten it, and she had had to explain that "since straight playboys are called womanizers, and Alec is gay, he would be a manizer." It must have been rather embarrassing for Simon, but Jace liked seeing the boy uncomfortable.

He didn't hate Simon, he really didn't. They just had a kind of tough-love friendship. They covered up the fact that they were friends with little barbs that were just jokes, but if Simon were in danger, Jace would help and vice versa.

_I've attempted to draw him so many times now, just in case I wake up and he's gone, so I'll have some memory of him. It just seems like I couldn't have ever met anyone like him, not me. Normal, boring Clary. Too short to be thought of as an adult. Too spacey to be a good friend, although Simon has stuck with me through thick, thin, an impostor brother, and crazy Shadowhunters. _

He stared blankly at what Clary thought of herself. How could she think that, when she had gotten everyone in his family, even _Alec_, who wasn't a really friendly person, to love her?

Well, he could cross Simon and Alec off his list, thank the Angel. He had another idea in his head, and he sincerely hoped it wasn't true. He couldn't compete with a warlock.

... He had no idea where that thought had come from. Brushing it off, he continued to decode Clary's writing.

_I could go on about the list of good things about him. For one, he likes cats, just like me. For another, I can have an intelligent conversation with him. He always has good topics, good ideas._

Could Clary seriously have a crush on _Magnus_? The idea was kind of gross, actually. Maybe he looked nineteen, but he was _centuries_ old.

_Simon doesn't like that I like him, but he gave me the same advice as Alec. He said that he likes me back, and that it's really obvious. I hope that he's not pulling the lying-to-make-you-feel-better best friend trick, because I don't want to go spilling my guts to the golden-eyed man and have him laugh in my face, flaunting his beauty right in front of me. Isabelle and Maia said similar things, and it's just so crazy that it seems like they're all doing some elaborate prank._

Jace blinked once, then twice. He rubbed a hand across his eyes. He stared at the loops and bumps in golden-eyed and wondered if he was reading it wrong. Could Clary actually like him? Because Magnus definitely didn't have golden eyes. And, let's be honest, cat-eyed simply didn't have the same ring to it as golden-eyed.

_Honestly, everyone seems to sense that I like him. How do they do that? Apparently, coming from Alec, it's a Shadowhunter thing. They notice details. And I'm being trained to, now. I don't know if I need to notice how the strands of even lighter blond hair weave into his golden locks. Do I really need to notice that his eyes match the colors of the golden sunset, before it's all the way down, when the wisps of gold hang across the sky? _

Jace stared at the page, scanning the rest of the five pages for his name. It didn't appear, but Star Wars did, and Jace figured that his part was over after the last paragraph:

_God help me. I've moved into the Institute since I caught my mother and Luke in a very compromising position a couple weeks before the wedding. She didn't really want me moving somewhere with "hormonal teenage boys" but I told her that Alec was gay and that_

"Hey, Jace, have you seen my-is that my journal?" Clary's face went deathly white, and she made a grab for the journal. He had to whip it away from her before he could finish the paragraph. What was Clary's explanation for her mother about living with Jace?

Unfortunately, Clary's Shadowhunter training had kicked in. She rolled and grabbed for the book, and he couldn't keep it still long enough to read the rest of the paragraph in fear of her retrieving it.

"Do you have anything juicy in there?" he asked slyly. Her cheeks went a bright, bright red, and the blush traveled down her neck... He found himself wondering just how far down the blush went on her body.

"Hmm... Let's see... Are there any dreams of me in there?" he asked, a smirk stretching its way across his face. Her face went even brighter red, if that was possible. She now resembled a fire truck, in all its red glory.

Well. Why hadn't she waited for him to get to the good part before barging in and trying to get her journal back? How absolutely _rude_ of her.

Looking for an escape route, he quickly tucked the book under his arm and ran for his en suite. The door had a lock on it, since Alec had once walked in on Jace during a shower.

Very awkward moment. Especially looking back on it knowing Alec was in love with him. Make that a very, _very_ awkward moment.

He locked the door, leaning against it with a triumphant smirk. He opened the book back up, ready to keep reading. Especially now that he knew there was a dream involved. Of him.

He found the sentence where he had been so rudely cut off.

_She didn't really want me moving somewhere with "hormonal teenage boys" but I told her that Alec was gay and that the other boy, the "straight one" wasn't a threat. Sure, it hurt to acknowledge that aloud. But it was the truth, and I had to accept it sometime. _

Jace sighed. Clary was blind. Simon, Alec, Isabelle, and Maia had all told her that he liked her, yet she still couldn't believe it.

There was no written description of the dream that was mentioned, but there were some drawings of Clary kissing a blonde. He thought the features were his, but since he was mashing faces with Clary, he couldn't exactly tell. Those must have been the dreams that she had been having. Nothing like he'd hoped for, in gory descriptions and bad thoughts, but still.

There were a few pictures like that, where there was a mystery blond kissing her. Maybe she had a thing for blondes. Or maybe she was in love with him like the journal had said.

Clary had been banging on the door the whole time, practically crying for him to give her back her journal, but he had ignored her so he could continue his reading.

Jace opened the door, and Clary was caught by surprise when the door suddenly opened in front of her. She fell forward at the lack of the wood to pound on, and she fell right into a solid wall of muscle. Jace.

"Give me back my journal, Jace. Or I swear to God I will tell Alec about That Thing." Jace's eyes widened. That was low. They had sworn not to tell anyone, especially not Alec. He handed back the journal, his hands shaking slightly. Alec could _not_ know about That Thing._  
_

Clary gripped the book tight, and he imagined that she was thinking something along the lines of _I'm never letting this book out of my sight again. _Pity_._ He had learned so much; he had been hoping that he would take it regularly and keep himself updated.

She moved to leave the room, to leave _him_. His arms wrapped around her waist, causing her to start in surprise. She looked up at him, eyes vulnerable and stance weak. Her eyes sparkled with a layer of tears, and they tugged at Jace's heart.

"You had better not be doing this to tease me. I know you read my journal, and if you even attempt for a second to tease me, I will kick. Your. Ass." With that, he leaned down and kissed her. He just couldn't help himself. She was too damn tempting for her own good.

Her lips were soft and tasted of cherries. If he were a poet, he would also have said they tasted of hope and possibilities. They fit perfectly together, he realized, as one of her hands took hold of his hair, knotting her fingers into his silken locks while the other locked around his neck, bringing them as close as possible.

Clary wasn't perfect. She had low self-esteem and a short temper. He wasn't perfect either. He was egotistical and could be, as Clary had put it, a douchebag. They both had flaws, and together they weren't perfect, but they were pretty damn close.

But he didn't want to dwell on that now. He just wanted to keep kissing his redheaded vixen, thanking those red flowers for being so alluring. And for leading him to her, the imperfectly perfect woman who was currently kissing him quite passionately.

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